Two Halves Make a Whole, or The Time Lerik Met the Rat Phantom
by Maze-zen
Summary: Someone has started to bother Erik in his catacombs. And what's with all the rats?


To say that Erik was frustrated was an understatement. If he didn't know any better, he would say that someone had moved down into the catacombs with him; his boat had been moved several times to different places on the underground lake, traps had been taken down or replaced with something laughably inane, and he'd heard the echo an organ playing - not his own - through the tunnels underneath his opera. To make matters worse, there were suddenly rats everywhere.

He was certain he knew who to blame for the rat problem. The incompetent managers had sent for some exorcist from the Catholic church to purge the opera of evil spirits a few weeks ago, no doubt hoping that the Opera Ghost would be no more. Erik had naturally scared the con-artist off, making the lights flicker and throwing his laughter around the auditorium as the priest had yelled "Heal! Heal!" with his crucifix held out every which way. When he'd had enough of listening to Catholic prayers, he'd rattled the chandelier which made the managers usher out the flustered self-claimed exorcist. Apparently, the new chandelier was worth more money than getting rid of the Ghost.

But they must've spent enough money on the supposed exorcism that they had to skimp out on other employees because Erik hadn't seen the rat catcher since. Only loads of rats. It was getting so out of hand that he, along with his frustration over the rapscallion messing with his catacombs, contemplated the option of leaking gas into the tunnels and setting them aflame; that should take care of the rats and the intruder.

However, he would have to wheel every barrel of gunpowder out of there and make sure that the gas wouldn't leak into the opera cellars. He couldn't risk the opera house exploding; it would leave him without a home and Christine without a place to perform when she was ready to rise to prima donna. It would all be such a hassle.

He was beginning to wonder if he should hire a rat catcher himself when he heard the sounds of an organ echoing through the tunnels. With fury in his steps, he ran towards the noise. While the person playing was talented, it was nothing compared to his own music; a manic chuckle rose in his throat when he thought about the insults he'd throw at the person as his red catgut choked the life out of them.

His search finally came to an end when he ventured into his lesser used passageways; it was a dead end, but it was apparent to him that this was where the sound came from. He came to a large cave at the end of the tunnel, much different from how it usually looked. A cheap replica of a Persian rug had been tossed on the ground, a bed with an obscene amount of linens and pillows stood against the wall to the right and a decent pipe organ to the left. In the middle stood a padded armchair with a nest of rats huddled together. Erik shivered in disgust. A simple metal chandelier with candles lit the room enough to see a slim figure with straight blonde hair by the organ, pounding away at the poor keyboard.

Aha! Finally, he'd found the culprit who was messing with his domain!

He pulled out his Punjab Lasso, threw it around the figure's neck and tugged - not hard enough to kill - so they fell backwards, landing with a thump on their back. A male voice growled and the man tried to get up from the ground. Erik loosened the catgut a little, enjoying the show and a little curious to know why this weakling had thought it was a good idea to venture down to the Phantom's catacombs and make his home there.

It was nearly a minute before the scoundrel at last got back on his feet. It was a younger man, 40 years of age at most, with a handsome face if it hadn't been for the scowl set on it. "How did you find your way down there?" The man spat, apparently unaware of the lasso still around his neck. Erik smirked and pulled a little, enough to make the man stumble. With a hiss he pulled it off his neck, and Erik let him. This booby was no threat to him.

"Get out!" He commanded, "or you will meet your end with my Punjab lasso!" Erik was feeling reluctant to disperse of him; after all, the man seemed to be an imbecile. Perhaps he would make a good rat catcher, as comfortable as he was with rats.

"Hahah! You underestimate me." The man responded and Erik lifted an eyebrow under his mask. "And yet, you do not dare meet the Phantom without a mask hiding your identity!"

This caught Erik's attention. The Phantom? Was he in all honestly claiming to be the Opera Ghost? Was he not aware of who he was facing?

Erik huffed before removing the black mask covering his ghastly death's head, expecting the imposter to crumble in fear. But to his surprise, the other man laughed at him, mockingly. "You think your ugliness can frighten me? I'm the Phantom of this opera house. It takes more to scare me. Leave me now before I send my rats after you!"

The words of insolence were too much for Erik to listen to. Within seconds he'd the stranger pinned against the cave wall, a lower arm pressing on his windpipe. "_I_ am the Phantom, the Opera Ghost, the Trapdoor Lover!" He roared with his most sinister voice into the long haired man's face. "How dare you come into my opera and claim to be me?"

Around them, rats began to pour out from various places in the room, several attacking Erik's ankles and trying to crawl up his legs. He attempted to kick them off, but they kept coming. The man in his hold laughed, not bothered in the least by the rats. Suddenly, a large rat bit the arm holding the imposter and Erik reacted instinctively, flinging the rat away from him, letting his captive go in the process.

But instead of fleeing, the charlatan, deceptively strong, gripped Erik's biceps hard and began to snap at him with his teeth as though he wanted to bite him like the deranged rats.

Erik was at his wit's end because of this maniac. It wasn't worth the effort.

He spun around, making the other man lose his grip on him, and with practiced hands, slipped the catgut around his throat; it only required a forceful tug to break the imposter's neck instantly. The body fell to the ground as Erik let go of the string, the rats scattering away.

Erik began straightening his suit, but quickly realized it had been ruined by rat bites. "What were you, the stinking Pied Piper?" he mumbled, kicking over the corpse on the floor. He gasped in horror when he saw a significant change on the bastard's face; instead of the handsome features Erik had seen a moment again, he now saw a face not unlike his own: sunken eyes, grey and yellowish sallow skin and nothing but a hole where a strong roman nose had been before. The long, blonde hair was gone as well, leaving the head nearly bare, only displaying a few strands of grey hair.

It was difficult to shock the Opera Ghost, but Erik felt extremely shook up. He staggered backwards before grabbing his mask and taking off. He needed to leave this bizarre situation behind and gather his thoughts; he could take care of the body later when he was feeling better.

Perhaps the rats had infected him with something, making him hallucinate. It would explain most of this, though he hadn't heard of a disease that worked that quickly. He had to research it, if only he could get back to his house.

He quickly found his way out of the maze of tunnels and came to the underground lake. Luckily, no one had moved the boat. He lit a lantern, mostly out of habit, and boarded the boat, pushing it away from the shore with his foot. Out on the quiet, familiar waters he began to feel much better. He tried to rationalize the experience; the corpse's face could've been a trick of light. The man might've been a new rat catcher who caught the rats to keep and train instead of killing them. But why call himself the Phantom and how did he get the pipe organ down there? He couldn't have had time to built it himself like Erik did.

It was all so mysterious. He knew there were many stories about the opera catacombs' mysteries, but he knew there was a reasonable explanation for all of them. This, however, he was uncertain of.

Suddenly, he felt something slither against his neck and by instinct, he grabbed it and flung it away from him, like when a spider crawled on his neck. But when he pulled, a sharp pain stabbed at his scalp. That's when he realized it was hair in his hand. Long blonde hair and it was attached to his scalp. Once again feeling disquieted, he peeled off his mask and slowly peeked over the edge of the boat to see his reflection in the light of the lantern.

There, in the still waters, he saw a man. Not a corpse, but a man. His eyes were very much Erik's own, as was the shape of his face with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. But instead of sagging, decaying skin, it was tight and pale marble; his eyes weren't sunken into his skull, his lips were thin but covered his teeth. But most importantly, he had a well built nose!

He lifted his hand to the nose he saw in his mirror image and let out a sob when he felt it on his face. He had a nose! He had a face! He had hair!

His features were very much like the imposter's, yet more befitting the shape of his own bone structure. The hair had a similar color, but was shorter and less straight. It was as though the stranger's best qualities had taken form on his face.

Erik was sure that he was dreaming. None of it made any sense. But he knew what he would do now that he looked normal: He had a girl to see.


End file.
